Trinity
by clashingHarmonyx
Summary: You've always had the dreams, for as long as you can remember. You see the girl, white and blue and radiant. You see the boy, red and black and confident. They have always been with you, side by side, guiding your dreams and guarding your nightmares. But now you're awake, and the galaxy knows it. How far will you go to make sure this ends differently? How far will you go for love?
1. Chapter 1

This story is currently being cross-posted in tandem with my Archive of Our Own account where I go by the username 'clashingHarmony'. Because of 's limitations, I cannot put a full summary of this story front and center, so I will be doing it here for full disclosure. This is primarily a reader-insert fic, but my goal is to provide a different experience for those who found the ending of the sequel trilogy to be lackluster at best and disappointing at worst, and prove that a reader-insert fic can be just as compelling and engaging as something strictly canon-compliant. We will be delving into mature themes, such as violence, character death, and sexual situations, and I will add warnings to particular chapters as they come so nobody is caught unaware.

Ultimately, this story was born as a plot-bunny that refused to leave me alone until I finally penned out the beginning at 2 am, and now I have no choice but to follow where it leads me. I hope you enjoy it as it unfolds as much as I enjoy writing it.

* * *

_You stand on a precipice. A razor-sharp edge. _

_ Dawn is nearby. The sky is soft blue, caught just before the break of sunlight. _

_ You can feel the heat of an endless desert. You can hear the hum of mechanized ventilation. Both are true. Neither are present. _

_ She's calloused and thin but muscular and hard on your left. Blue. "Tell me again," she whispers. You can't focus on her face, she glows too bright. _

_ He's strong and lithe but dangerous and cold on your right. Red. "I need to hear you," he pleads. You can't see his features, he sinks too deep into the darkness. _

_ You are caught in the middle. "Triad." _

_ "I don't know what that means," she cries. _

_ "Show me how to understand," he demands. _

_ They reach for you. Outshined, overshadowed. _

_ Gray. _

_ You tumble end over end into the void. They stretch out their hands but no matter how hard you try, you will never reach them. _

—x—

You begin to feel it again.

It starts off as a tingle. A gentle sensation that tickles between your temples, teases from one side of your thoughts to another. It makes you feel floaty, a little disoriented, until you almost trust the feeling. Then that tickle sinks deeper into your skull, claws threatening to tear you apart from the inside-out. Speckles of colors flicker in your vision and you struggle to keep from passing out or throwing up from the pain.

It's a terrifying new development.

"Another migraine?" One of your crew mates whispers with concern when they see you sink into a dark corner of your current ship, and you give them a strained smile as answer. They pat your shoulder and promise to bring you water and some painkillers, even though you know it won't help.

This is not a migraine.

It's a call, a summons that echoes into a roar that manifests into near-blinding scorching pain that threatens to leave you sobbing and retching almost three times a week. It never lasts longer than an hour, and then the feeling is gone as if it was never there.

"Are you sure you don't want us to stop in to see a doctor next time we're grounded?" Your captain asks you when the most recent one fades, and you force your lips to form as reassuring of a smile as you can.

"No, that's alright," you reassure this man who barely knows you, who will forget you when this job is done, whose worry is professional at best. "My father used to have headaches too, I think it's just a… hereditary problem."

It's close enough to the truth. But it's easier than admitting to these strangers that the Force has been screaming in your head for the past month, and it was starting to get more and more insistent that you listen.

—x—

You never particularly liked the Jedi.

Well, that wasn't entirely fair. You hadn't met any Jedi and couldn't speak of any _ personally _ , but as a concept, as an _ order, _ the stories you heard just tended to make you feel a general discomfort that turned your stomach away from even the best retellings of Luke Skywalker destroying the Empire.

It wasn't that the stories didn't inspire you, quite the contrary. You took to interstellar travel primarily _ because _ of those old war stories. But there was something about what the stories said about the Jedi way that rubbed you oddly. "Bringing balance to the Force," had been remembered as their creed long after the order went extinct, but you could never truly agree with their methods. Balance, you reasoned, should result from an equilibrium. Not from an over abundance of light.

There was also the whole thing about kidnapping small children, which wouldn't have sat right with you even if you hadn't been raised in sheltered isolation for that very reason.

"The brighter the light, the stronger the shadow," your father had whispered, after you watched the grainy holo depicting the newly-formed First Order destroy the first planet that refused to bend their knee. He had turned to you and said, "Tuck away your crystal."

So your crystal stayed, tucked away forever on a leather cord around your neck that kept it warm against your breast. With any luck, it would never see the light of day again.

But the Force was insistent. Clamoring around inside your skull no matter how desperately you willed it to remain silent as it had for so many years in the back of your mind. It would not cease, not until you finished your job and said goodbye to your crew for the last six months and ventured out on your own again.

You felt a bit as if you were indulging a toddler, if you were being honest. It drew a suffocating hand around your lungs and tugged you along through the starport city, driving a wedge of doubt into the pit of your stomach as you left your most recent crew behind. "Trust in the Force above all else," your father had said instead of saying goodbye.

You wandered. You wondered. Your crystal hummed, a childlike energy in tune with your own, as the sensation in your thoughts drew you further and further down into the city underbelly. Down here, less savory market stalls had been set up on the street corners, displaying disassembled droid parts and colorful spices strung up from poles to dry. You felt your lip curling at the sight of an insectoid individual attempting to ply their "live wares" onto passers-by and wondered why in the universe your supposed destiny would lead you down here.

A glint of sunlight hits your eyes between the towering skyscrapers above your head. _ Sand_, the vision whispers, _ stretching as far as my eyes can see. Sunburnt skin, prickling on my cheeks and nose. _

You shake the images away, scowling deeper. Where are you supposed to find _ sand _ in a city like this?

Sometimes you wish you could speak to the Force directly. It would, at the very least, make you feel better to yell about all the grief it's been causing you lately.

Sometimes, you hate that you feel it so intimately. _ Sensitivity, _your father had called it. It could be an immense help in a firefight and got more than one of your crews out of more than one sticky situation, but you knew it was also a dangerous liability. Instincts or no, training or no, it would be easy for anyone else with a small amount of sensitivity to pick you out of a crowd like this with your mind so open. But if you closed it—

_ Boots heavy on polished floors, my cape billows behind me as I storm down the corridor. Heads turn and knees quake as I pass, their terror makes me strong— _

_ I feel you, where— _

You shake your head and press on through the black market stalls, ignoring the voices trying to chip their way into your thoughts. It's not worth it, but the _ feeling _—you can't shake it and you can't escape it. Your dreams are a drug you will never be free of.

Your feet slow to a stop. Soft music is drifting over you, and it takes a moment for you to realize that it is coming from outside your head. You turn to face the source, and find a grim-looking bouncer is giving you an unimpressed look for standing in front of his door for half a second too long. You brush past him with your head held high as the fist in your lungs bids you, and leave the midday sun behind as you step into a dimly lit cantina. The music continues uninterrupted as you drift your way inside, compelled to take a seat in an inset booth along the walls of the bar.

It's been too long since you've had time to yourself like this. The music is mellow and pleasing for a bar so deep in the underbelly, nothing like the broadcasts that your last crew enjoyed, or even the one before that. You had been taking jobs left and right for the past year, trying to shake off an impending sense of anxiety that had taken root in the bottom of your stomach. You realize now that the feeling was likely the Force's first method of persuasion. Your headaches are the second.

A waitress floats up to you, a smile too easy on her face to be forced. You doubt they get many women here. "What'll it be, sweetheart?"

_ Sweetheart. I'm dying of thirst in the desert. Two portions. Only two portions. I can make it last. It has to last. One more night. One more- _

"Water, please," your voice scratches harshly. She looks momentarily concerned as you clear your throat and repeat yourself. You're getting tired of strangers showing you concern.

She shashays off with a twirl of her short skirt and you sink into the rough upholstery of your seat. You rub your temples and sigh heavily, once again wondering why you're here. The Force has gone silent and released its hold on your lungs, at least for the moment. Whatever it wants from you, it wants you to be here.

You trace your thumbnails into the chipped edges of the table as your mind wanders over your last few jobs. Life as a smuggler wasn't an easy one, but it was safer than mercenary work and it kept you out of the First Order's eyes—at least for the most part. You were safer the further away from them you could be, and hiding as a smuggler kept you just noticeable enough on their radar to ignore you.

_ Black leather. Heavy breathing. I see you again. Where are you. Show me. WHERE ARE YOU. _

_ Metal under my fingernails. Dust in my lungs. Aching and heavy. Just a little further. Just a little higher. Show me where— _

_ Where— _

** _Where—_ **

"You okay, sugar?"

You pop your eyes open. The waitress has set your water down on the table in front of you and you stare at it for a moment with eyes that are not your own. A hand wrapped in thick dirty cloth reaches up. A hand gloved in black leather picks up the glass. You press it to your lips and take a sip.

"Fine," you smile tightly. You're getting very good at lying to strangers. She returns your grin and you start to wonder if maybe you're just going insane.

She leaves you with your water and you focus on the here and the now. You watch the ice in your drink float and clink next to each other as it slowly melts in the warmer liquid. You listen to the music. You hear the faint murmuring of common conversations between the other patrons of your momentary refuge, picking up bits and pieces of conversation and even a more bestial tongue in between. This is where you are, thank the Force for that. Now you just had to figure out why.

Minutes go by of your silence. Then a new feeling, a different feeling, solidifies in your spine and manifests as unease creeping up the back of your throat. It's your only warning before two stormtroopers come storming into the cantina.

The music abruptly cuts off.

The two soldiers stomp further into the bar and you feel like your nerves are lighting on fire. You want to bolt but your instincts are keeping you rooted to your seat. Dimly, you feel a whisper of reassurance in the back of your head, but you shake it off. This is _ not _good.

A shifty mole-faced individual slinks out of the back and wrings his hands nervously as he approaches the stormtroopers. "S-something I could help you with, g-gentlemen—"

He scarcely has the words out before the trooper on the left says, "We've been given orders to search for Resistance sympathizers in this establishment."

You feel another tingle. A very familiar tingle. _ Not here! _ You hiss to nothing. _ Not now! _

Behind you, you hear the sound of a chair scraping against the stone floor.

"Cooperate, and this will be painless for everyone," the second trooper continues from his partner, and as a unit they split off and begin their sweep on either side of the bar.

You clutch your water and struggle to stamp down your panic. This is exactly why you had been trying to stay in space as often as possible. A new Resistance was steadily gaining traction and supporters against the First Order now that they had allied themselves with the Republic, but that just meant increased patrols and more regular raids on the smaller planet-bound folk. A nobody in space can be ignored. A nobody on the ground will raise suspicion, always. You can feel bile in the back of your throat as the tingle threatens to grow into an ache. The reassuring press against the back of your skull almost feels as if it is trying to push the pain out.

"Did you hear me?"

A stormtrooper is standing over you. His blaster is clutched in his hands. His posture is tense. "H-huh?" You mumble.

"I _ said_," the stormtrooper growls. "State your name and show your credentials.

Fear claws at your throat at the same time something territorial makes you want to sneer. But your sensitivity did not buy you free combat training, nor did your credits buy you the proper identification for this planet.

Your hesitance must show on your face, because you hear a distinct click and hiss of a blaster safety being taken off. The pain is coming hard and fast this time. At this point, it is a race of time between who will kill you first.

"This is your _last chance, _ you filthy pile of—"

"'Scuse me," a new voice cuts in. "Is my daughter giving you any trouble?"

The reassuring press recoils at the voice. You are left suddenly feeling more alone than before, even as an older gentleman shifts into view above you, carefully easing himself into the space between you and the stormtrooper.

The trooper sounds dubious. "Your daughter." It's not a question.

"We're here on holiday," your rescuer explains, far too casual for the conversation. "Thought we might see the town before I have to send her back to her mother. You know how it is. Messy reunions, am I right?" The man continues to prattle on about useless facts and false relationship drama while you clutch your head and try not to melt into your seat. Eventually, the stormtrooper finally gets fed up and moves along. The man slides into the bench opposite you and keeps up a fake smile until the stormtrooper moves their attention to the other patrons of the bar.

You slump forward immediately. The pain is howling, but you manage to grit out a grateful "Thank you," despite it.

Without his smile, the man looks considerably older. "Bad time for a migraine, kid," he grunts. You purse your lips, extremely tempted to snark back at him that your headaches are _ divine intervention_, but that would be downright suicidal with a stormtrooper still standing less than ten feet away from you. Instead, you plaster another fake smile on your face.

"I know, _ Dad. _"

Despite the lie being his, the man flinches. You ignore his reaction and try to bend forward around the table in a way that will allow you to press the cold glass against your forehead without picking it up. This is not at all how you had imagined this day would go.

The stormtroopers leave the two of you relatively alone after that, going through the rest of their inspection without incident. The mole-faced man, who you assume to be the owner, looks so relieved when they leave that you suspect he is trying not to cry.

When the coast is finally clear, you feel the man's eyes on you and you decide it is probably time to lift your head. The cold glass wasn't really helping, anyway. He's giving you a rather calculating look for a man so scruffy, running his knuckles against the stubble along his jaw as he watches you. His blue eyes narrow for a moment, and you wait as patiently as you can until he speaks.

"You don't look like Resistance." It's a statement, something close to suspicion in his eyes.

"Because I'm not," the Resistance is the last thing you want to be mixed up in. "I'm just here to find another job."

He raises his eyebrow and crosses his arms on the tabletop. "What kind of jobs are you looking for?"

You shrug. The pain is receding, but you wish you could pinpoint the source of your growing unease. Perhaps it's just leftover anxiety from such a close call? You try to shake it. It doesn't feel like the normal warning you usually get. "Anything that gets me off planet."

"This planet?"

"Any planet."

The man strokes his stubble again, then flags down your waitress. She looks less enthused to approach your table than before, but the man gives her a charming smile that has her quickly brightening. "Bring me a shot or two of whatever you recommend," he requests before turning back to you. "I think you and I have a lot to talk about."

_ One half portion. Lights and mechanical hum. Blinding sun and blistering heat. I feel you. I feel you. Where are you. Come back. Show me again. Don't leave me. Don't. _

The waitress returns with a tray of two shot glasses and you knock back the first one without blinking. You set it back on her tray, and give the man a leveled look.

"I think we do, too."


	2. Chapter 2

Warning for passing reference to graphic violence.

* * *

You've been having the dreams for as long as you can remember.

Since before your father had felt your mind spreading out farther than the confines of your skull, you have been having dreams that left you feeling torn up and torn apart and pulled in two different directions. You dreamed of sand and hunger and loneliness that clawed at your stomach and woke you with tears. You dreamed of impossibly long and lavish hallways with your every need catered to and felt lonelier still.

You dreamed of being left behind and abandoned.

You dreamed of being hated and betrayed.

None of it was true, but all of it was real. Your emotions were volatile, left you shaking and angry or seeking out small hidey-holes to escape an oppressive sun you could not feel.

"They are just visions," your father had finally explained when he realized that it was not your imagination making up fun and games. "Of different places and maybe even people. But they cannot hurt you, and you cannot allow them to rule you."

That made sense, but it didn't make it any easier. The way your father described it, being Force-sensitive with an ability to see visions was regarded as a gift by the Jedi, but you didn't see it that way. He implied that some users had been able to see the future, had been able to stretch their minds far across the galaxy and see what was needed, but it was always random.

You never admitted that your visions were constant. Always the desert. Always the stars. Starving, burning, dying of thirst in a barren wasteland. Angry, desperate, fighting for your life on a ship filled with enemy allies. You did not know what your father would have said if he had known. It had just felt safer to keep it to yourself.

Were you seeing the lives of other people? You had wondered about that for countless nights when a phantom emptiness in your stomach kept you awake. Or perhaps it was visions into a future, different stages, where you were betrayed by a hostile crew and left to die on a deserted planet. (This assumption was part of the reason why you never stayed with one particular crew for too long, just in case.) How could you know? You never would, until it was too late.

But there had also been other dreams, gentler dreams, that came as your mind and body matured. A man and a woman on either side of you, both stretching beyond in different directions but always reaching for you between them. One was a blinding silhouette of white and the other was a yawning chasm of black, both stark against the cloudy nothing around you. You are the cloudy nothing, surrounding them, connecting them, but never close enough to touch.

You don't know what you would do if you could.

So you put your head down and ignore it, despite the Force attempting to convince you otherwise. You leave your childhood home when the First Order begins cracking down, when your father leaves in the dead of night, when you are old enough to hire on with some spice haulers desperate for crew. You travel, and you dream, and you keep your nose to the ground when the First Order comes around.

It's worked well enough so far, and you have no reason to believe this next job will go any different.

-x-

He tells you his name is Soloman, and he's looking to hire on temporary crewmates.

That's enough information to catch your attention, but he continues to explain what kind of jobs you would be running for the duration of your contracted time with them. It makes no difference to you, so long as you don't deal in smuggling intelligent life.

You and Soloman work out some verbal details and agreements over the course of the next few hours and a few more shots. Before long, you have a sparkling new contract and quite a bit of alcohol in your belly, which leaves you feeling floaty and warm as Soloman pays and tips the friendly waitress and beckons you to follow him.

Outside, the sunlight is just beginning to fade into orange, reflecting gold and copper off of the skyscrapers towering above your head. Soloman leads you down the street to an old speeder, and you accept his offer of giving you a ride back to the ports where your new ship is docked.

It's a large _Baleen_-class heavy freighter, docked on the very edge of the port, looking about as haggard and scruffy as its captain. Soloman parks his speeder in a hangar filled with old equipment and hastily-piled storage crates, next to a pile of smaller salvage ships that had been only half-picked over. You curl your lip slightly at the dust and dirt on the floor as Soloman leads you towards a bulkhead and out into a corridor. If that's the state of the hangar, you're dreading the state of the living spaces. You swear, if he just hired you to clean, you're going to deck him.

Turns out, the living space of the ship is surprisingly livable, with only some small amount of grime and clutter that you can live with. The rest of the crew is as rough around the edges as Soloman, but they all greet you respectfully enough. From a Twi'lek, a pair of Mandalorians, to even a Wookie of all things, interspersed between a handful of humans, they are probably the most colorful crew you've ever had. Soloman asks the Wookie to take you to an open bunk before he's distracted by one of the Mandalorians, so the Wookie gives you a trill and you assume that means you should follow him now.

The hallways and corridors are industrial with exposed wires and grates, and your footsteps echo through the metal as you go. The Wookie grunts and trills and murmurs at you over his shoulder, but you only give him a regretful smile in return. "Give me a week," you say when he stops and opens a door into a sparse but comfortable personal chamber. "And I'll be able to handle any conversation you like."

The Wookie gives you a thumbs up, and leaves you to your privacy. You throw your bag onto the open bunk and drop into the thin mattress, not even caring about the amount of dust you kick up. You're safe behind a floating fortress of steel walls and behind a dozen or so hardened smugglers, about to embark back out into the endless expanse of anonymous space. They won't find you, not yet, not this time.

_We'll see. _

_Come back. _

_Show me again. _

_Tell me. _

You turn and press your face into the ratty old pillow, and push the voices out of your mind.

-x-

Turns out, it takes you two weeks before you start to pick up on the more nuanced bits of the Wookie language.

Life on board the _Eravana, _as you learn your new home-ship is called, isn't that bad. Soloman is gruff but fair, and his rougher edges are smoothed over by the sarcastic grumbling of his Wookie co-pilot and second in command. 'Chewie', he introduces himself when you can understand the introduction, is patient with your fumbled attempts to learn his language as the days and the jobs pass. He seems amused by your attempts, and according to Soloman you get the hang of his dialect surprisingly fast.

You don't tell them it's because the language feels familiar somehow, in a way that tickles you into discomfort when you mull about it for too long. It's easier to just pretend you're a natural polyglot, the same explanation you give when you surprise yourself by understanding the hums and beeps of a maintenance droid while out on a job. Soloman squints at you when you offer your half-hearted explanations, but doesn't comment. He gives you the same look when you mention that you have a bad feeling about your next job for an ambassador of King Pruna, but Chewie just laughs away your unease as the crew loads up to do some rathtar hunting.

He and the Mandalorians are the most excited about this upcoming job, polishing their brand-new plasma-bolt crossbows as they talk animatedly about their plans for the mission. You almost envy their enthusiasm, as the unease in your lower belly only gets worse the closer Soloman pilots the _Eravana _to Twon Ketee. It is a minor swamp planet with an atmosphere comprised mostly of toxic vapors, which means that just getting down to the surface is going to be tricky. Which doesn't even take into account the dangerous flora and fauna that have made this planet their home. Luckily, Soloman already has a guide waiting in the wings with your crew, a plucky fellow by the name of Varond. With his help, the plan will (_hopefully_) be a lot easier.

Why Soloman agreed to haul one of the most dangerous species of carnivorous organism halfway across the galaxy, you will never know.

"Remember," Soloman says as he straps his blaster into the holster on his hip and the rest of the crew are gearing up in toxin-proof helmets and masks. "Keep the bay doors open, but all the residential doors closed."

"I remember," you reply, annoyed that your inability to hide your discomfort with the mission has led to Soloman leaving you behind for the first part of the mission. Someone has to stay topside to close the right doors, he reasons, and you try not to feel too condescended about it.

You close your eyes as you wait on the bridge, listening to the chatter filtering through the radio headsets connecting your crew to the ship. Things are calm and jovial so far, so you let your mind wander. Just a little. Just for a moment.

_A village. The sand shifts underneath my feet as the soldiers fan out across the crowd to flank me. The heat is worse under my cape. No. This isn't right. Why is he in the sand. Why am I in the sand? _

_A man looks back at me, calm in his defiance. You cannot deny the truth that is your family. Your family. My family? Whose family? _

_Gone. _

_Fire. Fire and explosions and screaming and blood and- _

The screaming isn't coming from your thoughts, from your vision. You jerk upright and knock the radio receiver off the console, and the screaming only gets louder as it cracks against the metal floor. You scoop it up, the voices blowing out the speaker, just in time for Soloman to shout: "Start the tractor beam! Now, damn it!"

You slam your hands into the controls, engaging the tractor pulse and locking onto the shuttle that the crew had taken to the surface all the while the screams and the smell of smoke and burning flesh burns your eyes.

The whole _Eravana _shudders when the shuttle docks, and the sound of screams and animalistic shrieking echoes through the halls. You stare at the controls under your hands, then the open door behind you as an explosion rocks the whole ship.

Soloman's voice crackles across the radio. "Lock her down!"

"But-"

"Every bulkhead, kid, do it! Now!"

You've never done it before but your hands fly to do as Soloman orders, as if someone just behind you is guiding you through it. You can feel terror gripping your throat-and anger. But also resignation. Confusion.

_Let me help. _

_I can help. _

_Show me. _

_Tell me. _

_Teach me. _

You slam your open hand into the last button and the bulkheads behind you close, leaving you alone in the bridge as the shrieking and the screaming continues long through the next few hours.

-x-

Soloman is sweaty, dirty, and covered in dried blood when the bulkhead into the bridge slides open. He finds you curled up underneath the console, the long-silent radio transceiver clutched in your white-knuckled hands. You open your mouth, but he holds up a hand to stop you from speaking.

"I had a bad feeling about the rathars too," he grumbles bitterly. "Come on out of there. You just got promoted."

"Promoted?" Your voice scratches. _Parched in the fading sunlight. _"Promoted to what?"

He tosses a satchel at you as he leads you out of the bridge and into the hallways. You ignore the blood smearing the walls, ignore the curling disgust and horror and confusion and regret pushing on your throat. Inside the satchel is a datapad and a sheaf of flimsy, plus a few cards full of credits and a shiny black metal blaster.

"Third in command. Welcome to the new hierarchy, kid. You ever shoot a blaster before?"

"Yes," you pull it out and strap it to your hip while avoiding looking at what you desperately hope is the empty helmet of one of the Mandalorians, abandoned on the side of the corridor.

"Good. We've still got a delivery to make, so you, Chewie, and I are about to start pulling triple duty."

You swallow because you don't want to ask. Something compels you to be brave. "What about the others?"

Soloman stops short and holds out his arm to steer you down a different corridor, but not before you see the top half of your Twi'lek crew mate laying in a pool of her own blood a few paces ahead of you.

This time, when the tingle builds into the tearing agony between your temples, you really do stop to retch. Soloman is considerate enough to leave you be.

-x-

The _Eravana _is deathly silent after that.

Soloman assures you up down and sideways that the three rathars-_three rathtars this man is a lunatic he got _three _of them- _are safely secured in quarantine bays, but that doesn't stop you from twitching at every creak and groan of the ship. She's not meant to be run on such a skeleton crew like this, but the three of you make do as best as you can.

You curl up next to Chewie in the once-crowded common area to watch old holovids during whatever downtime you manage to scrape together, if only because the only other thing for you to do is be uncomfortably aware of the dangerous beasts lurking just a few handfuls of chambers away. You can faintly feel them on your periphery, mindless in their hostility. They're hungry.

Chewie, thankfully, is an oddly comforting presence by your side as Soloman goes about the ship to do the dreaded task of cleaning up the remains of your old crew. You can still hear those screams through the static of the radio, can still see the torn-apart body of the Twi'lek crewmate who's name you never really learned. Even as you sink into the once-plush seating that surrounds the common area and stop paying attention to the holovid, Chewie remains sitting beside you. The warmth of his body and the tremors of his laughter keep you grounded, even as you feel the temptation to slip into despair.

They were not your friends, but you have never lost a crew before. You were always the one who left first. Sometimes leaving behind memories, and sometimes not.

You draw your legs up and curl in tighter on yourself. You wonder why you didn't feel the usual trepidation that usually warns you away from these types of crews. Why would the Force lead you to Soloman only to subject you to watching his crew be slaughtered?

You really hate the Force sometimes.

_I know. _

_You're okay. _

_I'm here. _

_You're safe. _

You scowl at the voices. The only person here is Chewie.

Soloman stumbles into the common room not long after that, looking as if the whole weight of the universe is dragging him down. Dried sweat, blood, and dirt is still clinging to his face and shirt.

Chewie grunts and rumbles a few quick sounds that adds up to an approximation of, "You look like shit."

Soloman glares at him. "I feel like shit. Don't rub it in."

He leaves the two of you in the common area again, this time headed for his own captain's bunk and likely the refresher beyond that. He's gone for several more minutes, during which you feel Chewie's gaze land heavily on your head. When you look up at him, he's giving you a toothy grin that reassures you better than words ever could. He pats the top of your head with his bearish paws, and you return to watching your holovid.

Until Soloman comes storming back into the common room, still-half soaked and barely dressed, yelling, "I found it!"

Chewie straightens up, makes a noise of question.

"What do you _think _it is?!" Soloman hurries to fix his leather jacket. "Come on, hurry up, before we lose her again!"

"Her?" You stumble to rise after Chewie scrambles to his feet, rushing to follow them up to the bridge. "Lose who? Who did we find?"

Neither of them take the time to answer you, but in their flurry of activity you manage to figure out that what they've managed to find isn't a person at all, but the trace signal of a ship they've been searching for. Soloman and Chewie throw the _Eravana _into a quick and reckless hyperspace leap, dropping the ship into a new section of space just above the target. Soloman engages the tractor beam, and the _Eravana _'s freight doors swallow the smaller ship whole.

"_Yes!_" Soloman pumps his fist in the air and Chewie roars triumphantly. They scramble out of the bridge, still refusing to answer your questions as you follow them all the way down to the hangar.

"This," Soloman says to Chewie before the bulkhead doors open. "This is the best damn thing that could have ever happened to us today."

They sprint out into the hangar as soon as the doors open, but you skid to a stop and stare open-mouthed at the ship they've captured.

It's a YT-series light freighter that has clearly seen better days. It's sun-bleached on the top, caked in dirt and sand, and has been endlessly retrofitted with dozens of after-market modifications from an advanced hyperdrive engine to an enhanced shield generator. It's distinct disk-like shape and left-mounted cockpit, not to mention Chewie and Soloman's excitement and frantic determination, tell you one thing.

That's the _Millennium Falcon _.

Chewie and Soloman. You feel like an enormous idiot.

You've been travelling with _the_ Chewbacca and Han Solo, and your goal of staying far away from the Resistance has just flown right out the airlock.


	3. Chapter 3

_Her light is blinding you but you cannot look away. _

_She is closer now than she's ever been. You can feel her but she's outshining you, warming you from the inside out. For the first time, she doesn't feel like sand and heat and starvation. She feels… you feel… you… _

_He breathes against the nape of your neck, heavy and deep. Where are you. _

_She's here. _

_I'm here. _

_And we are together. _

-x-

You think the artificial gravity of the _Eravana _has gone haywire. You can feel yourself tilting, spinning out of orbit, struggling not to lose the ration bars you ate an hour ago as the girl stares up at you from below the floor of the _Millenium Falcon. _

Chewie and Soloman-_ Chewbacca and Han Solo _, you remind yourself with annoyance, stand on either side of you with blasters pointed down at the group you found inside the bowels of your newly captured- _recaptured- _ship. It's not a crew of trained mercenaries like you had expected. They're just a boy and a girl, neither much older than you, with a little orange and white astromech droid cowering behind their legs.

The girl is thin and waifish with a round face, her skin surprisingly pale. _Why does that surprise you? _Sunburn kisses pink across her skin, from her forehead to the bridge of her nose to her bare shoulders. She's dressed in dingy white linens with thick brown leather boots, and her chestnut hair is tied back in three sloppy buns down the back of her head. "I'm the pilot!" she blurts out when Han demands the location of the rest of the crew, her light brown eyes wide and wild with barely restrained panic.

Her companion, a tall young man with dark skin and short black hair, inches in front of her when Han voices a noise of disbelief. "You?" he repeats incredulously, flexing a hand around his blaster. Chewie growls, you barely catch something along the lines of 'this might be a trap' before the girl's eyes flick towards him and she hurries to correct him.

"It's true!" She exclaims. "We're the only ones on board, I swear!"

"You can understand that thing?" the boy asks, incredulous, and Han's scowl deepens.

"Yeah, and _that thing _can understand you too, so _watch it. _" He glares between the two strangers for several more moments before he sighs heavily and finally lowers his weapon. "More kids. Just what I need. Come on out of there."

Chewie steps back to put down the grate, and you step forward to offer your hand. The boy takes your hand first, and you grunt as you heave him back up into the _Falcon _'s common room floor. The girl scurries out easily without losing a hair from her buns, and finally she lifts her eyes and fixes them on you.

Her thin lips part but no sound comes out. She stares at you, through you, into you, and the hair on the back of your neck stands on end.

She is gigantic in this tiny room, dwarfing and outshining everyone. You're suddenly terrified by her gaze. Can she feel you? Can she see you the way you see her? Does she know what you both _are? _

Something is stretching between you, the tickle in your temples is growing into a roar of pressure without the usual pain. Your blood rushes in your ears like a tidal wave.

Han breaks the spell when he cuts in front of you, breaking your eye contact with the girl and leaving you blinking dazedly to try and reorient yourself. "Where did you find this ship?" Han growls at the two of them, and the girl blinks several times and licks her lips before she finally manages to explain.

"N-Niima Outpost," her voice sounds dry. _The dry voice, it was her voice, it was hers! _

"Jakku?!" Han blurts out in surprise. "That desert _junkyard? _"

_Sand. The sand. It was always the sand. Not a future, a person. She's a person. The light. The blue. She's here! _

You feel faint. The air is too thin in here for you to function as your thoughts become a whirlwind. You reach behind you for something to lean against as Han demands more information from the two-still nameless-thieves. They go back and forth about how many hands the _Falcon _has been changed over to since Han lost it, but you barely hear the conversation.

Your visions hadn't been about the future at all, yours or otherwise. You know this girl, as deeply and as intimately as you know yourself. You've dreamed her nightmares and felt her hunger, you know her loneliness as well as you know your own.

But she hasn't given you a second look since she figured out who's she's speaking to. "_ You're _Han Solo?!" She exclaims, almost childlike in her excitement.

"The war hero?" her friend asks, surprised.

"No, the smuggler," the girl corrects him with a frown. "_This_ is the ship that made the Kessel Run in fourteen parsecs?!"

"Twelve!" Han's voice sounds far away. He isn't in the room any more, must have wandered off to inspect the rest of the ship when you stopped paying attention. "Chewie, make sure they don't wander!"

You snort to yourself at the irony of Han ordering someone not to do exactly what he's doing, but then again the _Millennium Falcon _is his ship. He has every right to wander it as he sees fit. The noise you make catches the newcomers' attention though, and when you look up again you realize that they've both turned to face you.

"Uh," you straighten up as the girl's gaze electrocutes you. You force on a smile. "H-Hi."

The boy crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow. "Well, I know _you're _not a war hero."

Your smile twitches. "I'll try not to be offended by that," you manage to snark, and the girl's lips spread into a smile.

"I'm Rey," she says kindly. "That's Finn, and our droid is BB-8."

You bow your head and give them your name in return. "Charmed," you add, trying to be polite even though you're reeling. Now the light that's been haunting you your whole life finally has a name. You look at her, at _Rey, _and don't see a single sign that she's feeling anything at all similar to how you're feeling. She tilts her head to the side when she meets your gaze, smile questioning, oblivious to the turmoil inside you. "Sorry," you say quickly, shaking your head. "It's just-" _I've been having visions of you my whole life. _"You look very familiar. Have we… met before?"

Finn looks back and forth between the two of you while Rey does something with her face that makes her simultaneously look like a kicked puppy and a slamming door. "Have you ever been to Jakku?" she asks. "That's where I'm from."

You've never been to Jakku but you can see the rolling dunes vividly. You can feel the fine sand between your fingers, your toes, your everywhere. _The AT-AT half buried in the sand._

Has she seen the forest? Where the trees are so tall that entire cities are housed in their branches? Has she ever seen the monsoons that flood the ground for miles and turn streets into canals for half the year? "I don't know," you murmur. "Have you ever been to Arcadia?"

There isn't even a flicker of recognition at the mention of your home planet. "No," she says immediately, dashing your hopes. "I've never left Jakku."

She doesn't know. She didn't feel you like you felt her. But then why had you heard her voice? How could you have recognized her so easily if she doesn't feel the same way? How could you know so much about her, when she doesn't recognize you in return?

Circumstance has trapped between Han Solo's money, moral obligations to the Resistance and the greater good against your better judgement, and now a girl you've been sensing your whole life who doesn't recognize you.

You really, _really _hate the Force sometimes. At least things can't get any worse.

-x-

You come to the conclusion, as you scramble on all fours down the auxiliary passages below the _Eravana _corridors alongside Rey and Finn, that things could, in fact, have gotten much worse.

First, you found out that the little round droid accompanying Rey and Finn held a secret map to the mythical Luke Skywalker, and it had to be returned to the Resistance as soon as possible. That wouldn't have been so bad, if Finn hadn't appealed to Han's sense of nostalgia and convinced him to help them. It seemed that your current path was sending you on a collision course with the Resistance after all, and you were in too deep to get out now.

Secondly, while everyone was distracted on the _Millenium Falcon _by Han and Rey debating about some unnecessary compressor, the _Eravana _had been tracked, breached, and boarded. Han sent you down below with the 'new kids', into the maintenance tunnel below the grate flooring where the power and circuits for the whole ship were run along the walls, keeping the precious droid for themselves to protect while they dealt with the intruders. The intruders turned out to be loan sharks, two individual gangs that had teamed up to demand a return on the investment they made into Han's rathtar job.

Then you found out that little BB-8, and Rey and Finn for that matter, were being hunted by the First Order. So you wouldn't be escaping _them _either.

And then…

And then Rey set the rathtars loose.

She had a good plan, in theory. The gangs had flanked Han and Chewie and cornered them in the corridor above you. Rey had recognized that they could access the bulkhead doors from below by tripping their connected fuses on the wall, which would trap the gangs in their corners between the bulkheads and give everyone some time to escape. But when she hit the fuses, the lights on the _Eravana _went dim, and an unholy shrieking filled the corridors.

"Uh oh," Rey whispered, as ice ran down your spine. _Not again. _"Wrong fuses."

The screaming had erupted not long after that, two of the vicious creatures immediately setting their teeth and tentacles on the gang members. You hadn't seen the rathtars when the crew first got them on board, and you sure as Hell didn't want to see one now.

"This was a mistake!" Rey yells.

"Huge!" Finn agrees.

"Move!" You order them, and they go.

Which is how you find yourself crawling behind Rey and Finn down the maintenance tunnel as fast as you can. You're chased by the sounds of terrified screaming and tearing limbs—_ the Twi'lek torn in half on the walkway, oh, why didn't you learn her name?! _

_Focus. _

The Mandalorian's helmet laying upside down in the blood. More bodies now, littering the corridors in pieces—

_FOCUS! _

You hear your name being called from above you. You look up-Rey and Finn have found another access hatch and have already climbed out of the tunnel. "Come on!" Rey yells at you desperately, her big eyes wild. You reach up for them.

They snatch your wrists in equally calloused hands, rough palms scratching your skin as the two of them haul you back up onto the grate floor of the corridor. You look up. A boot is laying on the walkway in front of you. A bloody stump of an ankle is still sticking out of it.

You want to retch. Right then and there, you want to upend the contents of your stomach. It's getting harder and harder for you to breathe. You can't do this. You can't watch them all die again. Your legs won't move. You can't get up.

_Come on, come on, yes you can! _

Finn's hand is warm as he touches your back. Rey kneels in front of you, both of them somehow finding the time in their own panic to be worried about you.

"We can't stay here," Rey says urgently. "We need to find Han and BB-8!"

"Can you walk?" Finn asks quickly. "We gotta hurry, come on!"

You suck in deep breaths of air, as hard and as fast as you can. You close your eyes, trying to Will yourself to stand. _Get up. Get up! _

Something almost like hands reaches into your bones and pulls you to your feet. You stumble but Finn catches your elbow, and the three of you take off sprinting together.

Rey leads you down the corridors toward the sound of blasters and laser rifles and screaming. You round a corner as the cacophony grows louder, and all three of you skid to a stop at the sight that meets you.

A gaping circular maw with multiple rows of razor-sharp teeth has eclipsed the whole corridor. Multiple gang members are standing between it and the three of you, shooting their blasters and rifles down the beast's gullet without slowing it an inch. Flailing tentacles lash about at random, catching limbs and throwing men into walls or into the creature's jaws.

You understand, now, the real reason why Han had banished you to the bridge.

_Run. Run! _

_Can't move. It's horrible. Never seen something so horrible. My legs won't work. My feet, I can't—can't look away— _

_RUN, BOTH OF YOU! _

You're roughly yanked backwards. You stumble and turn—Finn has both you and Rey by the wrists, dragging the two of you together behind him in the opposite direction of the fighting and the screaming.

The corridors become a blur. The ship that has been your home for nearly a month is unfamiliar to you now. You should be the one leading the way, guiding Finn and Rey to safety, but your rational thoughts have completely shut down. You're at the mercy of your panic now.

As you sprint, another rathtar rolls out of an open hallway and sets its sights on the three of you. You don't know if it's the same one from before or if it's one of the other two, but Finn is quick to push you and Rey into a sharp 45-degree turn down another corridor. When had the _Eravana _become such a twisting maze of hallways? Why can't you remember which way leads back to the hangar?

_Why do you know you need to go to the- _

_Get in the Falcon get in the Falcon escape get out we can get out- _

Finn screams. You and Rey stop short and lurch around just in time to see the rathtar's tentacle has caught him by the ankle, quickly coiling further up until it has him around the stomach. "_ Finn! _" Rey shrieks.

"_ Rey! _" Finn screams both of your names as the rathtar lifts him from the ground and drags him away, down another corner and through an intersection. Rey takes off after it and you're right on her heels, but the remaining tentacles are still flailing around behind it. You just barely manage to push Rey out of the way before it can grab her too, but by the time you both climb back up to your feet, Finn and the rathtar are gone.

_The Twi'lek torn in half-Finn torn in half-can't let that happen-can't- _

The thoughts are pushed abruptly out of your mind, cut short and unfinished. _Have to focus._ _Gotta find Finn._

"Shit," you gasp for breath, raking loose hair out of your face and looking around the intersection for some kind of sign as Rey pants beside you. "_ Shit. _"

Rey grabs your wrist. Fire ignites in your stomach as she pulls you forward, shouting Finn's name. You can just barely hear him respond, and Rey drags you in that direction for another few corridors. You look left, Rey looks right, but Finn's voice comes from right behind you.

It's the main security room. Finn's voice is leaking out of the video screens for the ship's cameras, and Rey rushes to the control panels. "Bulkheads," you tell her, as her eyes flick across the screens. _I can trap him I can save him he won't end up like- _

"Don't-" You barely manage to yelp, as Rey's hand slams down on the control button.

Finn's screaming stops. Rey grabs your arm again, and the two of you find Finn just around the corner.

He's frantically kicking the bisected tentacles away from his body and yelps when you approach him. His eyes are wild. "It had me!" He says as you and Rey check to make sure he still has all of his pieces. "But then-the door-"

"That was lucky!" Rey quips, and the three of you take off as one back towards the _Eravana _hangar.

You find Han and Chewie just inside, beyond the shot-out remains of the bulkhead door. Chewie is favoring his right arm, growling in pain, as what remains of the two gang members fire their blasters over your heads.

"You!" Han points at Rey as she passes him. "Close the doors behind us! You, take care of Chewie!" He pushes the Wookie onto Finn, who grunts as his weight is passed over. Han snaps your name as well, ordering harshly, "Get to the cockpit and get her started for me!"

Rey darts up the _Millenium Falcon _'s ramp first, vanishing inside. Finn follows after her as quickly as he can with Chewie's weight dragging him down. You jump to help as Chewie stumbles, putting your hands on his furry back to hurry him up the ramp.

You lose sight of Rey and Han as you help Finn half carry and half drag Chewie to the open bunk on the side of the _Falcon' _s common room. You haven't known the wookie long, but you know he's a big baby when it comes to injuries, and you're certain that blaster wound on his arm is going to cause you and Finn a lot of trouble.

Blaster fire is rattling across the _Falcon' _s hull as you and Finn struggle to force Chewie to lay down. BB-8 rolls around behind you worriedly, a long string of beeps and whines escaping him as Chewie roars and snarls. "Come on," you growl back at him, definitely not in the mood to deal with a Wookie tantrum right now. "Finn, find a first aid kit!"

"I'm working on it!" he snaps back at you, tossing random items across the room as he searches the drawers and compartments.

You hear your name being shouted from the front of the ship. "I need you up here!" Han is yelling.

"Busy!" You shout back, and catch Rey dart down the hall to the cockpit out of the corner of your eye.

Finn finally finds a first aid kit as the _Millennium Falcon _shudders to life, her engines roaring underneath your boots. He tries to hand you a roll of bandage gauze, but the floor shifts as the _Falcon _lifts from the floor and he stumbles into Chewie's side. Chewie snarls and swats the roll out of Finn's hand, sending it flying across the room.

Anger, hot and fierce floods through your whole body. You have watched half a dozen people get torn apart by rathtars that want nothing more than to eat you all while another dozen gang members rain blaster fire down at your ship and Chewie is pitching a fit over getting a scratch?!"That's _enough! _" you snarl at him, loud and fierce enough that Finn freezes and Chewie's eyes swing up to look at you with surprise. "Cut this _shit _out right now and let us help you, or I _swear- _"

Your words are cut short as the whole ship shudders and launches forward, pitching you face-first into the metal shelf above the bunk.

As the _Millennium Falcon _jumps into hyper-speed, you slump to the floor, unconscious.


	4. Chapter 4

_Forgive me. _

_I feel it… again. _

-x-

This time, the vision is different.

Before, when you would drift to sleep and be gifted with images of far away places, they were all just dreams. Always hazy around the edges, blurry enough that you could only just barely make out a bigger picture. You've never been able to see such... specific details.

This is entirely new.

You're standing in a room so large it may as well be a cavern. The walls reach up so high you cannot see the ceiling, jaggedly carved from black stone. A dark haze clings to the air here, causing the small amount of low-positioned light to cast slivered beams across the polished black floor.

You shiver from the cold, but you cannot see your breath when it leaves you in one long gust of amazement. As you rub your arms for some feeble amount of warmth, you look down and realize-you cannot see your own body.

"The droid will soon be in the hands of the Resistance," a deep and booming voice echoes through the cavern, rattling inside your skull and making your blood run cold. "Leading them to the location of _Skywalker_."

You turn slowly, hesitant to face the source of the chilling voice. A man-what you _think _is a man-towers above you in the hollow room. His face, haloed and hidden by a thin light cast down from behind him, is wrinkled and twisted in a way that borders on disfigurement. He reclines in the shadows on a black granite throne, the arm of which is at least three times as tall as you. His size only amplifies the pressure of his presence, making you feel light-headed and faint. Even the black figure from your dreams has never felt as dark or as intimidating as this man.

"If Skywalker returns," his voice is grave and slow. "The new Jedi… will rise."

"Supreme Leader," a new voice speaks up, lighter and not nearly as all-encompassing. You look down, startled by the sight of two human-sized figures standing between you and the giant. The one speaking is a ginger-haired man in a pristine black uniform, hands clasped at attention behind his back. "I take full responsibility for-"

"_GENERAL!_ "

You flinch as the giant roars, rising to his feet to tower even higher in the cavernous room. The ginger-haired man falls immediately and obediently silent. "Our strategy," the giant growls. "Must now change."

On the other side of the ginger-haired man, you see a shadow move.

Just the faintest tilt of a head in your direction is enough to distract you. The figure beside the ginger-haired man stands taller and broader, his whole body obscured by thick leather robes and a cowl. As he turns, you see the glint of silver inset on a mask that completely hides his face.

Covered head to toe in black, you wonder how you could have known the figure was male-and then you recognize him. The shape of him beneath the robes, the way his presence comforts you under the terrifying presence of the giant, the way you _know _he can feel you standing behind him.

Your shadow. The darkness to match Rey's light.

"Go," the giant says now, and the masked figure turns away from you. "Oversee the preparations."

"Yes, Supreme Leader."

You suddenly feel as though ignoring the ginger-haired man in favor of the black figure has cost you dearly. He turns to face the mask of your shadow on his left, and you see a glint of his smug satisfaction in the gaze they share. Then the ginger-haired man turns sharply on his heel towards you.

You stumble back, certain for a split second that his body will run straight into you, but the ginger-haired man does not pause in his stride. He phases though you like wind without even the slightest disturbance. You breathe out sharply and clutch your upper arms, heavily unsettled by the sensation.

As the ginger-haired man leaves, the giant settles slowly back down into his throne. The silence that stretches through the next few moments is more deafening than his voice. He sits there and just watches your shadow, completely still, until his giant eyes slowly slide towards the empty space beside him.

"Did you think I would not see you, _girl_?"

Your shadow jerks, like he's been struck. You lurch backwards as if you've been shoved violently in the chest. The giant roars again, furious, leaping back up to his feet-

"HOW _DARE _YOU TRY TO HIDE SOMETHING FROM ME-"

-and then you see nothing at all.

-x-

When you open your eyes, Finn is leaning over you.

He's less than half a foot away from your nose, his wide eyes blinking down at you for a split second before he jumps back in surprise. Behind him, BB-8 rolls around making little frantic beeps as he exclaims, "You're awake!"

Perhaps, but you sure as hell wish you weren't. Your head aches terribly, all but throbbing behind your eyebrows and Finn hasn't helped at all by scaring the life out of you. The pain is too localized to blame on a Force-induced migraine, so you come to the conclusion this one is entirely physical.

Finn backs away as you try to sit up, his surprise quickly morphing into a frown. "Woah, woah, not so fast," he murmurs, strong and calloused hands gently but firmly pushing you back to laying down. "You got knocked around pretty bad, take it easy for a second."

That's a bit of an understatement. You reach up to touch your head and wince when your fingers brush against a tender spot just above your eyebrow. That must have been where your head slammed into the cabinet during take-off. Since then, you've been moved to the lounge seats across the room since Chewie's hulking unconscious mass is still dominating the only bunk.

Finn's gaze is obviously concerned and obnoxiously patient. "How are you feeling?"

Honestly? You feel like absolute garbage. Your thoughts and emotions are an absolute mess, trying to make sense of what you've just seen with a splitting ache in your skull on top of it all. That new kind of vision makes you uneasy, not helped at all by the image of that terrifying giant turning his piercing gaze on you. The ginger-haired man had called him the 'Supreme Leader', but surely that didn't mean he was the same 'Supreme Leader' of the First Order. Right?

Dread settles in your stomach with an ache that weighs you down heavier than the pain in your head. Not even knowing you saw the figure of your black shadow as close to real-life as you've ever gotten is enough to shake the feeling away.

But Finn is still waiting expectantly, so you put on as best of a wry grin as you can manage and say, "Not great."

Finn raises an eyebrow but thankfully accepts that as an answer. BB-8 pushes the first aid kit from before closer to him across the floor, and Finn leans down to root through it. "I had wanted to wait until you came back around to give you some pain killers, but Chewie ended up using most of them." He shudders slightly and your grin becomes easier at his disturbed expression. "Would have applied bacta, but it turns out that Plutt's-his-name hadn't bothered to resupply anything while the _Falcon _was collecting dust on his lot."

"It's fine," you mumble, brushing your fingertips against the tender spot again. You cautiously make another attempt at sitting up, and this time Finn lets you. "How long was I out?"

"Only a little while," he shrugs one shoulder. "We're still in hyper-drive. Hold still for a second."

You still, and Finn reaches up with a thin pad of gauze moistened with antiseptic. You wince as he dabs the pad across the sore spot on your head, but make no comment even though discomfort is bubbling inside you. How long has it been since someone else took the time to tend to one of your injuries?

When he's done with the antiseptic, Finn produces a small rectangular sticky bandage from the first aid kit. You can feel just how calloused his fingertips are when he brushes them across your forehead, pressing the bandage into place. He leans back when he's done, nodding with satisfaction.

"Thanks," you mumble as he packs up the kit.

"Don't mention it," he replies easily, but you can tell that being able to help you has pleased him greatly.

BB-8 rolls up to your feet when Finn rises to put the first aid kit away, and you reach down to give the little worried droid a reassuring pat on the... head? Brain-casing? Head is probably the most accurate. He zips around in a few little circles, chirping happily, and you laugh as you pick up how happy he is that you're doing okay.

You lean back on the lounge seat and Finn returns to take his place by your side. He drops his head against the back of the seat with a tired sigh, and you sympathize. Your eyes roam across the common room, taking it all in for the very first time. Everything is old and outdated with a thin layer of grime, but you can tell it have been loved dearly once upon a time. With any luck, Han and Chewie would be able to bring the _Millennium Falcon_'s interior back to her former glory.

But then you realize that someone is missing. Finn jerks his head back up as you spin sharply towards him. "Where's Rey?!"

BB-8 yelps and rolls quickly away from your harsh voice. Finn puts up his hands in mock surrender. "She's co-piloting for Han," he explains quickly. "Since Chewie is out of commission." His eyes narrow slightly. "...why?"

You blink once and reach out in your mind. On one side you hit something that feels like a wall, but in the other direction you sense Rey's gentle white glow from just a few dozen feet away. From what you can gather, she's having the time of her life. Thoughtlessly, you prod a bit at the wall you feel, only to be stung back into the confines of your skull. Is your shadow rejecting you, now that you've been caught by the Supreme Leader?

Finn crosses his arms and leans back, frowning deeper. You shake the sting of the mental rejection away and focus back on the person in front of you. "Sorry," you murmur. "I couldn't remember if she got on the ship or not. I was just worried she got left behind."

Finn's expression softens at the lie. You feel a little bad about it, but at least he doesn't look quite so suspicious anymore. "I understand," he says with something like sadness around his eyes. "Things were pretty crazy before. Hang on, let me go grab you some water."

You thank him as he gets up, more for giving you space than for getting you something to drink. You sit in the quiet as he leaves the room, letting each breath shudder out of you as they come.

When had your life spiraled so far out of your own control? Just last month you were leaving behind a different crew and lifestyle as easily as some species would shed a skin. Today, you've been through two ship-wide massacres, joined a pair of First Order fugitives in their mission to escort a droid to the Resistance, and had the most vivid vision of your entire life that left you right in the sights of the First Order's Supreme Leader.

You used to be so careful. Now all of your previous efforts were going up in smoke.

After another moment to reflect on all your bad decisions since your chance meeting with Han Solo, you find your gaze drawn to the other side of the room. Chewie is still snoring loudly, with his head slumped forward and his knees bent awkwardly so he could fit inside the human-sized bunk. A hastily-wrapped bandage circles the site of his blaster wound, thanks to Finn. Gingerly, you push to your feet and cross the room towards him.

Guilt eats at you as you remember how angry you had been before. Adrenaline and stress had taken over. Chewie has always been calm and comforting to you, and you responded to his injury like a child.

Your eyes drift down to the bandage on his arm. Finn had done a good job despite Chewie's struggling and the lack of bacta, and you're surprised by how oddly… militaristic the field-dressing is. Still, the wound is seeping red through the white gauze, and you know it will be far too long for Chewie to get back in fighting condition. You have a bad feeling you'll all be doing a lot more of it soon.

Taking another shuddering breath, you hold up your hand and close your eyes. You reach out in your mind, brushing up against Rey's warmth and the boundary holding you back until you find the Wookiee's energy where it edges up against your own. Coarse fur and tough skin, fat and muscle, tendons and ligaments and bones as strong as durasteel. You furrow your brows as you seek out what has been burned away by plasma, pinching the ends with your thoughts and willing them to knit back together.

When you open your eyes the wound has scabbed over, and Chewie has stopped snoring. He's staring at you, expression grave, and you lift a finger to your lips. You look down to find that BB-8 has rolled up to your feet again, and you give him the same gesture. Both of them give you tiny nods. _Our little secret. _

Finn returns soon after that with a bottle of clean water and a ration bar that hasn't yet expired. As you sip and chew you start to feel a little bit better, and it isn't long before Han finally reappears from the cockpit. He looks a little haggard and rough around the edges, but no worse from the wear.

"How you doin'?" He asks Chewie, who glances your way before starting up a short list of pitiful complaints about his injury for Han's benefit. "Oh, don't say that," Han says, gruff even in his reassurance. "You did great, just rest."

Han turns to you and lifts his eyebrows. "What about you?" he asks next, gesturing to his forehead. "How's the, uh…"

"I think I'm okay," you grin. "Who are you, again?"

Han scoffs and rolls his eyes, but you can see a little bit of tension leave his shoulders. Next he looks at Finn beside you, and though Han's expression doesn't exactly soften you can tell he's grateful. "Good job, kid," he praises Finn quietly, nodding at you and at Chewie. "Thanks."

"You're wel-" Finn stops and clears his throat, averting his eyes. "You're welcome."

Another set of footsteps come down the hall from the cockpit, but you don't have to look up to feel Rey enter the room. Her glow can't be ignored but it's getting easier to see around it. Having her closer makes you feel better, too.

"So," Han says as she stops behind Finn, both of them looking up as he puts his hands on his hips. Amusement colors his voice. "Fugitives from the First Order, huh?"

"The First Order wants the map that BB-8 is carrying," Rey explains. "Finn is with the Resistance, I'm just a scavenger."

The concept that Rey is 'just' anything is almost laughable but you keep your face as schooled as you can. She has to realize her potential in her own time, when she's ready.

Beside you, Finn shifts awkwardly. He pointedly looks away when Han glances down at him. Han's lip quirks up slightly, and then he turns to BB-8. "Alright. Let's see what you've got, ball."

BB-8 turns to Rey and chirps inquisitively. Her returning smile is warm and encouraging. "Go ahead."

At her nod, BB-8 rolls out to the middle of the room. Tilting his 'head' back, blue light springs to life above him as he projects the holographic map into the open air above him. Stars and planets materialize around you, filling the room with a miniature galaxy. You're no stranger to star maps, but this one is intricately detailed in a distinct way you've never seen before. You can't quite put your finger on what's wrong with it until your eyes land on an orange dotted line spanning the whole map. You furrow your brows. Don't maps usually _lead _somewhere? This one just charts a single route from one end to the other with no destination in sight. Why would it-

"This map's not complete," Han says after a moment. "It's just a piece."

"Why would they split the map into pieces?" You ask in confusion.

"Probably to make it harder to follow," Han explains grimly. "Ever since Luke disappeared, people have been looking for him." He takes a few steps through the little section of the galaxy, his eyes never leaving that dotted orange trail.

Rey settles into a chair by the navigator's corner, her legs drawn up under her in lotus-position. "Why did he leave?"

Han stops, his face morphing through a few different emotions before he speaks again. "He was training a new generation of Jedi," he says finally, and you wonder why it sounds like he's admitting something. "One boy, an… an apprentice… turned against him and destroyed it all."

_Fire and rain. Crumbling walls and screams. No! I didn't want this! The betrayal is sour in my heart-_

"Luke felt responsible," Han continues his slow stride around the room. "Just… walked away from everything." _From everyone, _you don't hear him say.

Finn slowly rises from the lounge seat. "Do… you know what happened to him?" he asks Han's wandering back carefully.

Han shrugs slightly, distracted. "There were a lot of rumors. Stories. But the people that knew him best think he went looking for the first Jedi temple."

Your own discomfort is at war with Rey's reverent excitement. "The Jedi _were _real," she says, breathless with wonder.

"I used to wonder about that, myself," Han sighs heavily. "I used to think it was just a bunch of mumbo-jumbo." He huffs a small laugh. "A magical power holding together good and evil, the dark side and the light? It's almost laughable… but... the crazy thing is..."

Han slowly turns back around. His eyes move from Rey to Finn and finally land on you. You swallow thickly, discomforted by what you see in the weight of his gaze. "It's true. All of it. The Force, the Jedi, the struggle for balance… it's all true."

_A figure of white and a figure of black. You had never realized that they were standing on either side of you, in opposition. Rey, sparkling blue in the space beside you, and your shadow, flickering red at the side of the First Order_.

It never occurred to you until now that they might have been enemies all along.

A soft beeping fills the air, breaking the tension of the moment.

Han blinks and BB-8 stops projecting the map, leaving the room to feel momentarily empty. Shaking his head, Han takes a few short steps to the navigator's terminal. Chewie growls about wondering if he needs any help, but Han scolds him back into the bunk with a firm, "No, you rest." He flicks a few buttons and switches as Rey does her best not to hover over his shoulder.

"You kids want my help?" Han mutters, still swatting at switches. "Well, you're getting it. We're gonna go see an old friend, she'll get your droid home. C'mon, the lot of you. This is our stop."

Chewie settles back into the bunk while Han leads you, Rey, and Finn back towards the cockpit. He slides into the pilot's seat and Rey quickly plops down beside him, leaving you and Finn to take the two passenger seats behind them.

With a few careful directions to the toggles and knobs on the dashboard, the _Millennium Falcon _drops elegantly out of hyperspeed. A mid-sized green planet speckled with spots of blue immediately leaps up to greet you.

Han angles the _Millennium Falcon _down towards its surface. "Welcome to Takodana."


	5. Chapter 5

Takodana reminds you of home.

Not for the height of the trees here, because you have memories of forests that tower high into the clouds on your home planet. Whole villages could be nested within the branches, held together with bridges and rope-swings and walkways. In comparison, Takodana's forests look juvenile. Wild and over-encompassing perhaps, but still just infants.

The sense of nostalgia comes from the colors more than anything else. Green covers most of the planet, the plants and foliage have overgrown into almost complete dominance. Pockets of sparkling blue lakes connected by thin rivers are interspersed throughout.

Han flies the _Millenium Falcon _over the treetops, doing a few quick laps of one particular area of the forest. Wistfulness pokes at your eyes, and you blink away tears that are not your own.

You follow the feeling to Rey. She sits in dumbfounded wonder across from you in front of Finn, her hands gone slack on the console board. You remember the orange sand spreading out for miles in every direction. The only blue she has ever known is the sky. If she never saw your home the way you see hers, then she's never seen a forest before at all.

Her voice is breathless, barely a whisper. "I never knew there was this much green in the whole galaxy."

Han's head turns slightly towards her. The last time you had seen him make that expression, he was sitting across from you in a dusty old cantina and giving you a place on the crew of the _Eravana. _A smile curls your lips upwards at the idea of taking Rey to every green world you could possibly imagine.

Finally, Han finds what he's been looking for. A stone castle rises up from between the trees on the edge of a wide lake, with towers reaching tall into the sky as the _Falcon _flies past. You catch the barest glimpse of a statue standing on the inward edge of a small quartyard, a figure with their arms outstretched above their head in welcome.

A collection of low-atmosphere cruisers and small ships are scattered around the grounds surrounding it the castle, but Han ignores this obvious parking zone. He directs the _Falcon _to an open clearing half a mile away from the castle, and settles her down on a ridge that overlooks the castle and the calm lake behind it.

Rey is up and out of her seat before Han has even finished the landing sequence, darting out of the cockpit and down the hallway. Han rolls his eyes as the rest of you get up to follow her.

Finn trails after Han as he heads deeper into the _Falcon _, so you head to the ramp and bounce down to find Rey. Her and BB-8 haven't gone far, you find them standing on the ridge taking in the view. You walk over, and the crunch of grass and leaves under your boots makes you smile.

"Hey," you say, and Rey turns to give you a wide grin that nearly blinds you.

"This is…" she shakes her head slowly, overwhelmed. "I've never…"

"I know," you chuckle, until she glances your way and you hasten to finish, "W-what you mean. Yeah. It's really, uh. Really pretty."

"Jakku wasn't like this," she murmurs, toeing her boot into the dirt. "There's so much… there's just… there's so much."

You nod along, picturing the world she came from in your mind. You can see her, sitting in the dusty sand as the sun sets low on the horizon, huddled from the harsh rays in the shadow of a half-buried AT-AT. Little wonder why Takodana in all its lush glory would overwhelm her.

"You'll get used to it," you assure her gently, just taking a moment to appreciate her in the soft sunlight until you hear footsteps approaching you from behind. When you turn, Han is stepping up to Rey's other side with a silver blaster pistol in his hand.

"Here," Han says, surprising you by handing it to Rey. "You might need this."

Rey raises an eyebrow, but her smile only grows. "I think I can handle myself."

"I know you can," Han says, glancing at you and then back to her again. "You think I give these things out like pity prizes? Go on, take it."

Rey looks somewhere between dubious and elated as she takes the blaster from Han. She immediately holds it out in front of her, one eye closed and her elbow locked while pointing the barrel off into the distance. Han puts his hands on his hips as she attempts to aim without a target.

"You know how to use that thing?" He asks warily.

"Yeah," Rey says. "You pull the trigger."

You and Han share a look over Rey's head and you cover your amusement by coughing into your fist. Shaking his head, Han gently but firmly pushes Rey's arm down. "There's a little more to it than that," he grumbles. "You've got a lot to learn. Both of you."

You perk up slightly, surprised by being included. Rey glances back at you before looking up at Han again, and you can't see the question in her eyes but you can feel the curiosity bubbling inside her. Han's face works through a few different stages of expressions, before he eventually lets out a long sigh.

"Listen," he begins finally. "Now that we've got the _Falcon _back and the _Eravana _has been overrun by rathars and death gangs… I been thinkin' about hiring on a new crew to help man her." He glances your way and his lips scrunch sideways. "So far, you two have proved you can keep up with Chewie and me, and you appreciate the Falcon, so..."

Rey crosses in front of him with a giddy smile. "Are you offering me a job?"

"I'm thinking about it!" Han corrects her, scowling. "I wouldn't be nice to you, and it wouldn't pay very much!"

When Rey's excitement doesn't fade, Han sighs again and glances towards you, almost warily. "I know _our _contract was only good for a few weeks, but would you _possibly _be willing to negotiate a new one?"

Stars help you, but you think you are. What happened to the girl who would jump from job to job and ship to ship and backstory to backstory, never in one place for very long? You don't know where she went, but you also don't know if you want her back. "I'll think about it," you reply, smirking faintly when Han rolls his eyes at his own words given back to him.

You glance at Rey, just to catch a glimpse of her happiness again, but the smile is slowly fading off of her face. She's looking down, excitement going dim like a setting sun. You think of the sand dunes again, a desperate longing drawing you back to them. You turn to Rey fully, but by the time you do, the smile is gone.

"If you _were _offering me a job," Rey murmurs, sadness clinging to her voice. "I'd be flattered. But I have to get home."

Han's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Where, _Jakku _?" He asks incredulously.

You feel Rey's reluctance, but she nods, her shoulders slumped. "I've already been away for too long."

You and Han share another look over her head. You shrug, feeling a little helpless. While whatever connection you share allows you to sense Rey's emotions, it doesn't offer insight into her thoughts. She had been so lonely on Jakku, so desperate for _something _different, you can't imagine what would be worth going back there for.

Finn and Chewie come down from the _Falcon _'s ramp then. Rey turns her head when Finn calls out to her. She jogs back to them, leaving you and Han alone on the ridge.

You look up at Han and he looks down at you. You look back out over the view that had enthralled Rey, just taking a moment to enjoy the sunshine and the birdsong and the peace of a calm moment. This moment overlooking the lake and the castle beyond is the first moment you've had time to breathe, and you don't want to waste it. You doubt you'll be able to keep going if you don't take this time to rest.

But it doesn't last forever. Han groans softly, ruining your moment with, "Alright, out with it."

"Out with what?"

"Don't give me that," he frowns at you. "I know you've got something to say, so you might as well get it over with while we have time."

You purse your lips. The dirt under your boots crunches as you grind your heel. Is this the best time? You don't know when you'll have the chance to talk to Han like this again, but at the same time… is this even a conversation worth having?

He's persistent in his silence though, gaze heavy on the side of your head. Finally you let out a long breath and cross your arms, not looking at him when you say, "Why did you call yourself Soloman when we first met?" Your frown deepens. "When were you planning on telling me the truth?"

"Depends," he shrugs. "When were you gonna tell me you're Force-sensitive?"

Your head snaps around so fast your vision blurs. Han is still making a face that's mostly impassive, but you can see a gravity in his eyes that makes your blood run cold. "How did you…" your voice is strangled in your chest. Your eyes narrow. "Did Chewie tell you…?"

"Chewie didn't have to tell me anything," Han scoffs. "I've known Luke Skywalker for_ thirty years _, kid, including the time I spent married to Leia Organa." He stares off into the distance for a moment. "I've got some experience recognizing kids with the power, especially considering-"

You look up when he cuts himself off, arms crossed over his chest and one hand pressed against his mouth. His brows have furrowed and his expression has turned stormy. "...considering… what?" You probe him carefully. There's an open wound here, and you're not sure how to proceed.

"Never mind," Han shakes his head firmly. "My point is, you saw the Death Gangs that came as soon as we had the _Millenium Falcon _back. It shouldn't surprise you that I gave you and the old crew a fake name."

-_ the nameless Twi'lek laying in the corridor- _

_Don't think about that now. _

_Quiet. _

_No. _

Han gives you a pointed stare. "If you want to keep your power a secret, I'm not gonna question it, kid. Just remember you're not the only one who's running from something in this galaxy. Consider that while you think about my offer."

He stalks away after that, leaving you alone. Curiosity is bubbling in your stomach but you stamp it down firmly. He's right, of course, but that still leaves one question remaining. What could the Han Solo, fearless smuggler and stone-faced criminal, general and war-hero of the old rebellion, possibly be running from?

-x-

The walk from the _Millennium Falcon _'s landing zone to the castle only takes about half an hour. Chewie stays behind, to rest and take stock of what has been damaged or changed on the _Falcon _, while the rest of you follow Han down a winding trail through the thick forest. Rey smiles the whole way through, while Finn keeps to the back of your group. It's odd that he puts so much space between himself and Han, but you decide it's not worth worrying about when you finally reach the front of the castle.

"Solo," Finn says as you approach, addressing Han for the first time since leaving the _Falcon. _"What exactly are we doing here?"

Han sighs, but you're looking for a more clear explanation as well, so you just give him a raised eyebrow until he finally offers more details. "We're here to get your droid onto a clean ship."

"Clean?" Rey questions. You feel her doubt that the layer of grime on the _Falcon _would affect anything, but you understand what Han's goal is now.

"He means that we need to put BB-8 on something that won't show up on scanners," you clarify for her.

"Wasn't luck that Chewie and I were able to find the _Falcon _once you two got her in the air," Han says. "If we could see her, it means the First Order isn't far behind. So, if you wanna get BB-8 to the Resistance in one piece, then Maz Kanata is your best bet."

From this angle, the castle looks even larger and more imposing than it did in the air. The small courtyard you had seen before leads you right up to the front doors, with dozens of colorful flags hung off the walls and strung across thick cables above your head. The statue stands above the door, welcoming your group with open arms and giant bug-like eyes.

"We can trust her, right?" Finn asks uncomfortably. You can imagine he's had some bad experiences with trusting people in the past. You doubt that running around protecting such a valuable droid would offer many opportunities to make friends.

Han's easy-going confidence is a welcome comfort. "Relax, kid," he chuckles faintly, leading you up to the copper double-door entrance of the castle. "She's run this watering hole on neutral territory for a thousand years." Just before the door Han pauses, turning back around to face the three of you plus BB-8 with something close to wariness in his eyes. "Now listen, Maz is a little bit of an acquired taste, so let me do the talking." His eyes dart between the three of you. "And whatever you do, don't stare."

You look at Finn and Rey, and they look at each other in turn. "At what?" you ask in unison.

Han takes a deep breath. "At any of it."

The doors slide open and immediately music starts pouring out. You're immediately reminded of the little cantina where you first met Han, only this establishment is much better populated. The main entrance hall of the castle has been retrofitted into a bustling bar scene, with clusters of tables and chairs from dozens of different eras and cultures littered about. More people and species than you can count have packed themselves into the space, pirates and smugglers and average cargo pilots and mercenaries all taking the time to relax and put their feet up for a drink. The sight of it all brings a smile to your face. With so many different kinds of people here, in all different walks of life, it would be painlessly easy to slip away and become nobody again.

_Still have a chance. Still have time. I could- _

_You shouldn't- _

_Leave. _

_Stay. _

_Come to me _.

Your group barely takes five steps before a distinctly feminine voice rings out above the din, "_ HAN SOLO! _"

The music stops. Conversations grind to a halt. Every face in the room turns immediately to Han and you in his little entourage. Every hope you held of vanishing into anonymity are squashed. Clenching your fists, you wonder for a moment that if the Force could laugh, would it be laughing at you?

"Oh boy," Han groans to himself tiredly. Putting on a smile you instantly recognize as fake, Han waves into the crowd and weakly calls back, "Hey, Maz!"

You barely catch Rey staring at you from the corner of your eye. You face her, but before you can ask, Maz Kanata is approaching your little group by the door.

She's a rather diminutive creature, the top of her head just barely reaching the bottom of your rib cage. Her skin is a warm orange shade, leathery and wrinkled. Her dark eyes still hold a bright spark, betraying the youth of her spirit despite her outwardly aged appearance. You realize now that the statue outside had not depicted bug-eyes at all, but the vision-enhancing goggles Maz wears over her eyes.

She squints up at Han from behind these goggles, barely sparing a glance at the rest of you. "Where's my boyfriend?"

"Chewie's working on the _Falcon _," Han says with a chuckle.

Maz huffs again, unimpressed. "I like that Wookiee," she mutters, clearly implying she likes Chewie's company better than Han's. Her eyes leave Han after a moment to roam across the group of you behind him. You can't see her eyebrows beyond her headgear, but her forehead wrinkles deepen slightly. "I assume you need something." She glances down at BB-8 and the expression intensifies. "Desperately."

"Maz," Han sighs. "I-"

"Could use a bath and a real bed," Maz finishes for him. When Han opens his mouth, she cuts him off with a wave of her hand. "Don't lie to me, boy, I can see the exhaustion in your faces. How long have you kids been awake and on the run, hm? When was the last time any of you slept?"

While your brain is struggling to make sense of anyone looking at Han and choosing to call him a 'boy', you come to realize you cannot remember the last time you saw your little bunk on the _Eravana _. Have you really not slept since before Twon Ketee? It feels like a lifetime has passed since your old crew- _the twi'lek, no stop- _had faced the rathtars, since Han and Chewie found the _Falcon _, since you met Rey. It could not have only been one cycle. Has it really only been one cycle?

The thought makes you waver in your place. Rey catches your arm as your eyes flutter, holding you upright, and her touch lights you up like fire. Exhaustion is creeping in but you keep it stubbornly at bay.

_Careful. _

_Easy. _

_The twi'lek- _

_Shh. _

_Don't follow that thread. _

Han is staring at you when you lift your head. You put your shoulders back defiantly, but it's too late. Shaking his head, he looks down at Maz with all the exhaustion you're reluctant to show.

"A few hours," he agrees finally. "Then…"

"Then we'll get to business. Come on then, all of you." Maz beckons you to follow her as she walks off into the crowd towards a set of stairs that lead further into the castle. Han follows her, and Finn is close behind.

You hesitate at the door. Exhaustion be damned, it would still be so easy to-

Rey's hand finds yours and she holds you tight, dragging you along behind her. You're helpless to do anything but follow her, a moth captivated by her light.

_Leave. _

_Don't go. _

_Come to me. _

_Stay with me. _

Maybe sleeping for a few hours is a good idea after all.


End file.
